Prompt: First Kisses

Word Count: 924

Pairing: Scallison (and I guess a tiny bit of Skittles but it's totally friendly)


Scott's first kiss with Allison was the first one that mattered, but not the first one that happened.

No, the first time Scott kissed someone, he was ten, and, naturally, it was Stiles' idea. See, Stiles was in love with Lydia, but Lydia already had a boyfriend. It wasn't Jackson, at that point, but she wasn't single, and Stiles had seen the pair of them kissing. Somehow, he came to the conclusion that he'd have a better chance with Lydia if he and Scott kissed.

"No one likes a dude who hasn't had his first kiss," Stiles explained one day.

Scott glanced at him, frowning. "Why not?"

"Because," Stiles started, but then stopped talking for a minute while he refocused on Super Smash Bros long enough to beat the computer's Jigglypuff. "Because girls like experienced guys. I think."

"So you want to kiss me," Scott said. He wasn't really sure about the success rate of Stiles' plans, but they usually had fun during the mess they inevitably made.

"Uh, yeah," Stiles said. "Seems like a good plan."

"Sounds stupid." But, because Scott really is the best friend in the world, he paused the game and turned toward Stiles. "Okay. Get it over with."

So Scott's first kiss was sloppy but close-mouthed and came from his best friend. It was also his only kiss before Allison, because before the bite, he was the nerdy benchwarmer with asthma that didn't dress the best he could have, all things considered. Girls, for whatever reason, didn't find him appealing.

So his first kiss with Allison is the first one that matters. They don't make a big deal about it. Even in his head, he barely makes note of the fact that he's finally kissed someone he likes as more than a friend. At the time, he's kind of distracted by how much more intense everything is as a werewolf. He knows it wouldn't be like this otherwise. The scents and the sensations are so overwhelming. Allison. Allison. Everything is Allison.

It's only later when he's spread out on his bed that night, grinning goofily, that he thinks about first kisses and that day back in the fifth grade when Stiles convinced him a kiss shared between friends was a good idea. His thoughts turn back to Allison again, and her small, almost secret smile when she leaned away from him. He can still see her eyes lit up with…something…something more than happiness.

He thinks, then, that this is a love for storybooks. People will think about them and their epic love for longer than they thought about Twilight.

Maybe they should make a TV show about it, he muses, on the edge of sleep. But nah, if they made a TV show, the pair of them would inevitably break up to add drama. As if a werewolf dating a werewolf hunter wasn't drama enough.

Kissing Allison seems incredible every time. He thinks that first kisses don't mean that much, when you consider that the more you love a person, the sweeter the kisses become. And now…Allison. Allison. Everything is Allison.

Until it's not. Because apparently, stupid thoughts as you fall asleep can jinx things, and he and Allison break up within two months. Every moment of that is agonizing. He thinks about kissing her and missing her and feels like he can't breathe. It's like his heart has asthma, or something that stupid and corny.

The second first kiss that matters is when they get back together. It's like coming home, and later he compares the feeling to how Harry must have felt when he went back to Hogwarts. It's like that, but it's real and perfect and Allison.

He thinks he could handle another breakup if they're guaranteed to get back together, so of course that's not what happens. This breakup is going to be indefinite in length, but this time he understands that she needs this. It's not that she doesn't trust him. It's that she doesn't trust herself.

Once, when he's hanging out with Stiles, he thinks that maybe he doesn't trust her either. He immediately feels bad, but reminds himself of the whole Gerard thing, and well. It doesn't seem so awful.

But he still misses her. It's not like asthma this time. It's more like the dull ache that happens about two minutes after you stub your toe. Only it's not going away, and all he can think is that he'd give anything for a third first kiss from Allison. And then he would do everything in his power to make sure there was never reason for a fourth first kiss. He can't handle having her and losing her again.

But he misses the time before Allison, too. Before everything was Allison. Back when girls were hot but unattainable and when he was a benchwarmer with no pressure to perform on the field. Before he was fighting alpha werewolves and giant lizards at every turn. Before, when it was just Scott-and-Stiles.

He feels bad about wishing for that, too. He can't talk himself into feeling less guilty, either, because he knows he'd hate to go back to the painless years if it meant he couldn't remember the kisses, the moments shared in the woods, or Allison's cheers as he scored a goal.

In reality, he's never had a chance. It was always going to be this way. Everything is Allison, and there's nothing he can do about it.

Some nights, he admits that he doesn't want to do anything about it at all.


Disclaimer: I don't own Teen Wolf.

A/N: Yes, I'm being successful again! Written for 14 Days of Fic. Feel free to follow me on my writing tumblr, neverendingpaintrain, or my personal, imagreatbowler!